Knocking At Your Door
by hyperpsychomaniac
Summary: The Saint Nazaire returns to Puerto Angel, only to find that in thier abscense thier home bloc has recieved a visit from the Sphere.
1. Chapter 1

**A/n:** I've been wanting to write something like this for awhile... you'll find out exaclty what in subsequent chapters. ;)

* * *

The Saint Nazaire drifted through the blue skies, now barely a few minutes from its final destination – Puerto Angel. The bloc would likely be in visual range once they passed through this next cloud. It would be a relief. The last half hour before reaching home always seemed the longest.

Cortes drummed his fingers against the side of his Captain's chair, ever so slightly restless. Around him, his crew were going about their respective tasks on the bridge in near silence. Their last mission had lasted nearly a week and Cortes knew they were all ready to go home. He was too.

"Are we there yet?" Mahad asked, breaking into the silence, and quite accurately voicing what most of the crew were probably already thinking.

Cortes could hear Dahlia let out a groan from the front of the bridge. This almost made him smile, but he managed to contain it in favour of growling at Mahad. "Show some patience, Mahad. Or at the very least, make yourself useful…"

Mahad stepped halfway up the small set of stairs to the Captain's chair. "That doesn't answer my question."

"Tough."

Mahad groaned and bounded back off the stairs and towards the back of the bridge, muttering something under his breath.

This time, Cortes _did_ let himself smile ever so slightly, but only because Mahad couldn't see him. For once, he was managing to annoy Mahad more than Mahad was annoying him. A small feat, but enough to bring that small smile nonetheless.

"Oh, so we _are_ nearly there…" Mahad grumbled. He was now looking at their position on the bridge's central console.

"I could've told you that," sighed Lena, who had been on the console anyway.

The console let out a blip noise.

"Hey, Cortes… we're receiving a distress signal…" said Mahad.

Cortes stood up. "From where?"

"Sir… it's on our frequency…" said Wayan, "I… think it's Puerto Angel."

It was at that moment that the clouds parted before the pirate's vessel to reveal their home bloc. Half its side was aflame and smoking. Five or six Sphere patrollers could be seen in the air space around it.

"Full stop!" Cortes barked. "Get us back behind that cloud!"

"What?!" Mahad balked. "Are you saying we're not going to help?! I don't know if you noticed… but that's _Puerto Angel_!"

The Saint Nazaire backed up, and the stricken bloc disappeared behind a wall of white.

"The formation those patrollers were in… they've finished the attack, they should be leaving," Cortes snarled, his whole body tense. "We can't afford to be seen."

"So we just let them get away?!"

Cortes gritted his teeth, and forced himself not to answer.

"That's it; I'm getting a Mosquito…" said Mahad, turning to the bridge door.

"You stay where you are!" Cortes snapped, halting Mahad in his tracks.

"The patrollers are pulling away, Sir," said Dahlia.

"Have they seen us?"

"I don't think so," Dahlia growled. "I don't think the bastards are looking."

"Yeah, that's great," said Mahad. "So we're safe here, underneath our rock…"

"You would prefer I engage those patrollers and bring the full might of the Sphere down on us and whatever they've left on Puerto Angel!?" Cortes snarled.

"They can't come if we destroy them all!" said Mahad, as if it were obvious.

"The Sphere knows they're here, they will come looking for them if they don't return! Destroying them won't undo the damage they've already done; it'll only make it worse. We can only hope it wasn't too great…"

Mahad didn't reply, and Cortes momentarily wondered why he felt the need to justify himself to the boy. Perhaps it was because he himself really wanted to tear those patrollers out of the sky, perhaps even more than Mahad did.

"Captain…" Wayan interrupted. "The patrollers are gone. We should go help."

Cortes thought for a brief moment, hearing nothing but his own heart pounding. "Give it five more minutes," he eventually said, grudgingly.

He expected Mahad to argue, but surprisingly, he never did.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/n: **I may or may not continue this fic after this chapter... ends okay here, and will probably depend on my motivation/inspiration as to whether I continue. Please review.

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As soon as Cortes and his crew left the Saint Nazaire, the Vector was there to meet them. Though Cortes would never admit it, he felt the slightest relief when he saw the older man was alright. Save for some sooty marks on his shirt and face, he appeared untouched by the disaster.

"Are you alright, Vector?" Dahlia asked.

"I'm fine, but we've got a bit of a mess here…" the Vector replied, sounding a little short of breath.

"What happened?" Cortes demanded.

"They were looking for you… pirates, more specifically," said the Vector. "But they didn't find any, and I don't think they were even certain you were hiding here." He sighed. "Of course, that didn't stop them from accusing us of hoarding water."

"How much damage have they caused?"

"Enough. They shot up most of the north side of the bloc – though I think we've got those fires under control now. They also destroyed the water tanks and some of our food supplies…"

"Alright, alright," said Cortes. He could hear the rest later. "Where do we need to help?"

"The infirmary might be a good start…"

----

Cortes hadn't liked it when the Vector mentioned the infirmary. That meant people had been hurt. Of course, he really expected nothing less.

As soon as they walked in through the infirmary doors they could tell things were fairly bad. The place was almost packed out, and there were still a few more people trailing in. At least it looked like a few of the wounded may only have minor injuries.

Of course, minor injuries weren't all there were, a few people looked like they were really hurt.

"We've got a lot of people coming in from the north side with burns and such," the doctor explained. "There may still be more in trouble…"

"I'll go help…" said Wayan, heading out the infirmary doors.

Cortes took a look around, his eyes searching, and then was drawn almost instantly to the corner where a few of the beds had white sheets drawn up over them, the shape of a body underneath. He closed his eyes briefly, and drew in a breath. Then his eyes shot open.

"Vector…" Cortes grabbed the man's arm as he walked past. "Where's Cheng?"

The Vector halted, not having much choice. "He's… He must still be up at the lighthouse. He went up there when the Sphere came so he could delete all the computer information that we don't want them to get their hands on."

"And you haven't seen him since!?" Cortes snapped, squeezing the Vector's arm harder, as if that might somehow get the response he desired.

"No…" said the Vector, yanking his arm back from Cortes. "Cortes, the fighting was down here. I didn't see any of the patrollers attacked the lighthouse; I'm sure he's fine…"

"Damn it, Vector," Cortes growled. He spun on his heel and stomped towards the door.

"Cortes…" the Vector started, but the Captain had already left, leaving the infirmary doors swinging on their hinges. "He's fine…" he said, mostly to reassure himself. Now that he thought about it Cheng had gone up nearly two hours ago and he should have remembered about the boy sooner.

---

Cortes ran up the path towards the lighthouse. On his way, he had to pass through the village. Some of it was still smouldering and much of it had been destroyed. He passed a few people, mostly in crews helping to clean up the mess. A few people just wandered aimlessly, until one of the crews caught them up took them to either the infirmary or the tavern.

Cortes didn't stop. It wasn't that he didn't feel for those people. Every new piece of damage, every person who had lost their home, he passed brought a greater anger, a greater fear, and a greater feeling of helplessness to protect. Even had the Saint Nazaire been there they could have done _nothing_. They could have chased the patrollers away, sure, but then they'd be in even greater trouble when the rest of the Sphere came to find out what had happened to those patrollers. It was tempting to blame himself for not being there, but deep down Cortes knew he could have done nothing. He only blamed himself for not being _capable_ of doing more. He'd stand between his people and the Sphere if he could, but it'd be like one little human standing up against a monster. That monster would destroy him in a second, and then move on to those he'd been trying to protect with barely a pause. And a fat lot of good that would do. Cortes could live with that, even if it meant some days Mahad would accuse him of being a coward. Though Cortes tried hard to explain it to him, sometimes he feared the boy was right.

He reached the top of the bloc in barely a few minutes and took the steps to the lighthouse in a single bound. He turned the knob of the door the instant his shoulder crashed into it, and nearly tripped over as he barrelled inside. "Cheng!?"

There was no answer. Cortes glanced around, and then noticed a burn mark through the banister of the stairs to the second level. His heart pounded harder. He took those stairs in three long strides – almost. In his hurry, his boot caught on the top stair and he crashed to the ground.

The fall was probably the only thing that saved him. The instant he hit the ground a blast of energy flew over his head. Cortes' fighting instincts kicked in. He picked himself up and dove behind the Vector's desk. He glanced across as he did, catching sight of the Brig that had tried to kill him. One Brig… he could take it down easily.

He shifted behind the desk further, seeking better cover. That's when he saw Cheng. Cortes drew in a breath, grabbed the boy and tried to sit him up straight. "_Cheng_…?!"

The boy didn't respond. He was cold. It looked as if was asleep, save for the still smouldering burn on his clothes that had fused to his flesh underneath.

Cortes shook. He drew in a ragged breath and fought back tears as he pulled Cheng close to him and ran a hand through the boy's hair. He could not trick his mind for even a moment; fool himself into thinking Cheng couldn't be dead. The Sphere had shown him just enough death that he had no momentary luxury of doubt or disbelief.

"Show yourself…" stated the Brig from the other side of the room, snapping Cortes' mind back to awareness of its existence. That Brigadier had killed Cheng. It represented everything the Sphere did, every death they had caused.

Cortes' emotions flared with rage; his body flushed with adrenaline. He leapt over the desk with a roar; oblivious or uncaring that one good shot from that Brig would kill him.

The one shot the Brig managed to get out left a nick through Cortes' sleeve, but did nothing to slow him down. Cortes grabbed its weapon arm before it could fire off another blast, and twisted it around until the joint snapped. He tossed it aside. He smashed a fist into the Brig's face then brought a boot up into its chest, sending it crashing to the ground.

The Brig was too damaged to cause him any harm now, but it didn't occur to Cortes to stop. He leapt on top of the fallen Brig's chest and smashed his fists into the machine's face again and again. He didn't feel when he cut his hands on the metal or notice his blood smearing over the machine's faceplate. The metal eventually bowed in under the onslaught, leaving the Brig looking like someone had smashed its 'skull' in with a crowbar, and in some strange way the blood was its own.

Cortes' rage died down. His punches became weaker until they stopped completely. He sat on top of the Brig, gasping for air, until his gasps became sobs and he completely broke down into tears.

For a good few minutes all he could do was weep, knowing full well that nothing he could ever do would bring Cheng back. Eventually, he forced himself to stand, and walked back to where Cheng lay, his footsteps heavy. He knelt down, pulled the boy close, and cradled him up in his arms. Then he began the long walk back down from the lighthouse.


	3. Chapter 3

"Well, it might help if you bring in some more water…" Dahlia shouted across at Mahad.

She had to admit, he'd been trying pretty hard to help out in the infirmary. He hadn't complained once. Somehow though, he was still managing to get in the way more than help.

"Ah… right…" Mahad nodded, and turned to exit the infirmary doors.

They swung open just before he reached them, and Cortes stepped in.

Mahad froze.

Cortes held Cheng's limp body in his arms.

"Is… is he…" Mahad stuttered.

Cortes ignored Mahad. Dahlia had glanced up from what she was doing, a look of shock and disbelief slowly growing on her face.

"Where can I put him?" Cortes said simply.

Dahlia pointed across the room, not quite certain of what to say.

Cortes walked over to the empty bed Dahlia had indicated, and lay Cheng's body down on it. His hand grasped the sheet that was there, but he paused before he could completely cover the boy from sight.

Dahlia had walked slowly over to his side. "Captain…"

"Don't you have something you're supposed to be doing?" Cortes rasped.

Dahlia blinked rapidly, and stepped back over to what she had been doing earlier without a word.

Mahad felt frozen to the spot. Cheng couldn't be dead. He was just a kid. Mahad shuddered, and felt his stomach heave. He dashed outside the infirmary doors into the fresh air. He managed to control himself, but had to double over, his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. The world seemed to spin around him for a moment. He couldn't believe it, he almost felt he'd have to step back through those doors to confirm Cheng really was dead, like what he'd seen before hadn't been real. But he was old enough to know he hadn't dreamed it. And though it shocked him deeply, the fact that the Sphere had killed Cheng, a child, wasn't beyond his ability to understand.

----

It had been a few days since the Sphere had visited Puerto Angel. Since then, the pirates had held a funeral for those that had been killed. And apart from that, and the clean up of the Sphere's mess, things seemed to almost have returned to normal. But that was only on the surface. Even as Cortes went about his daily tasks on Puerto Angel, he couldn't seem to concentrate. How could he? The fact that he was going about everything almost as he normally did just seemed to make it worse.

In response, he'd made an even greater effort to keep himself busy, to concentrate on work. It had almost worked. But he had to take a break, to sleep. Or so Wayan kept telling him. Cortes didn't want to sleep. He didn't want the Vector to keep bugging him to talk to him either, so he'd been avoiding him.

Now, he sat in the Captain's chair of the Saint Nazaire. It was some time after midnight, Cortes wasn't exactly sure when, nor did he really care. He'd practically run out of things to keep himself busy with, so now just sat in the chair, listening to the Sphere news feeds. Or trying to. It was about the most useless thing he could distract himself with, but it was still a couple notches above trying to sleep.

The image of Cheng's limp body passed in front of his eyes again, and Cortes squeezed his eyes shut tight, and tried to listen to the radio.

He heard the door to the bridge creak open and forced his eyes open, blinking a couple of times. If the Vector thought he could just barge in and force him to talk to him…

Instead, it was Wayan. He held a bottle and a couple of glasses in his hands. "Hey…"

"Something to report, Wayan?" Cortes asked, a little coldly.

"I thought you could use some company."

"If you mean the bottle, then yes, you can leave it, though I doubt it'll help much."

Wayan sighed, and stepped across the bridge so it was a little harder for Cortes to avoid looking at him. "Captain… we're all worried about you…"

"I've lost men before, Wayan!" Cortes snapped.

"Men, yes. But not your son."

"He wasn't my son!" Cortes growled. He stood up and turned his back on Wayan, gripping the railing in front of him.

"Cortes, we all know how you thought of him…" said Wayan gently.

Cortes didn't reply for a moment.

"I just thought you might need to talk."

"Talking won't bring him back, Wayan," said Cortes.

"No… but neither will beating yourself up over it, or ignoring your friends when they want to help."

Cortes sighed. He turned back from the railing and took a glass off of Wayan.

Wayan poured him some of the drink from the bottle and they both sat down on the stairs that led to the lower level of the bridge.

For just a moment, they sat there. Wayan poured himself a glass.

Cortes downed the amount of liquid Wayan and poured him, then grabbed the bottle and poured himself some more.

"Cortes, I…"

"Well, what exactly do you want me to say?!" Cortes snapped suddenly. "Are we supposed to have a deep and meaningful conversation or something!?"

Wayan blinked.

Cortes shuddered and put down his glass before he broke or threw it. "What am I supposed to say? That I miss him? That I miss I'm never going to see him grow up? I…" He choked and hastily picked up his drink to take another sip.

Wayan sighed, and put a hand on Cortes' back. "Hey, I'm real sorry."

"I know, Wayan," said Cortes. He stared at the front of the bridge as his vision blurred and then just hung his head, drawing in deep breaths in an effort to calm himself.

Wayan didn't say anything. He just sat there with an arm around Cortes' back.

Cortes suddenly found he didn't care if Wayan saw him like this. He was more tired then he could ever remember being, and just didn't care anymore. "Thanks, Wayan," he managed to get out before he shuddered again, closed his eyes tight and released the hold he'd had on his emotions for the last few days.


End file.
